Those Summer Nights
by gratefulsugar
Summary: The Burrow can be so suffocating sometimes, especially during the summer of 1996. Hermione retreats to the barn for some solitude when a certain sexy twin crashes her plans. Together they experience some very unexpected, extremely naughty ideas. Slight Ron bashing
1. Chapter One

**AN**: Guys, I'm really sorry I just keep writing different stories and I can't stop. Don't worry, I _am_ working on my other fics, they're all in progress I swear. Things need to be added there, tweaked here and it can all be a lot sometimes so I get to them when I can. I'd never written, nor read a Fremione fic before, but all of a sudden I just jumped right into it and now I'm totally a shipper. Usually I write Dramione fics, I've always written Dramione but as most of us, my tastes sometimes wander. I'm really into Fred Weasley right now, I just am, okay? Sometimes I want to read about Snape, sometimes I'll read a Sirius or Tom Riddle fic but when it comes to writing its consistently been Draco and Hermione for me.

So I wanted to step out of my comfort zone a bit. This idea just came into mind, basically because I was trying to think of a somewhat realistic, hot way for Fred and Hermione to get together. This was what my rubbish brain came up with, so I'm terribly sorry if you find it awful! The title I came up with sucks too so that's one thing that's subject to change.

I took a few liberties and made up some shit about Arthur having a work-shop in the barn and then I decided to add some piggys but I'm pretty sure that's all that's completely out of the ordinary. I wanted there to be pigs, so there are. There is absolutely no reason for it.

This fic takes place after fifth year. I probably won't be showcasing too many of the characters because let's face it, I wanna get to the good stuff as quickly as possible. I just really feel as if I just don't have time right now for all these slow-burns and thick plots, ya know what I mean? Thank you.

I'm warning everybody now, there is some slight Ron Weasley bashing. I apologize to my earlier readers if that wasn't made clear, because in fact, I hadn't realized I was Ron bashing. The reason for this is because yes, in this story he's getting picked on a lot by his siblings and Hermione found it mildly funny but even so, she still has feelings for Ron here. What I had assumed bashing was when it came to Ron, was when you had Hermione outright not want to be with Ron because of claiming he's "less intelligent" than her or otherwise and then practically breaking up with him for no reason. I didn't think having humorous, somewhat mean stuff happening to Ron was bashing but I understand that now. I personally love Ron, he's one of the best characters in the books, I don't mean to bash him on purpose - that's just sort of where my ships take me sometimes. So very sorry.

This is a very mature, explicit story with crude language and themes. I do not own any rights to a single thing. J.K. Rowling – you are the ruler of my world. She owns it all, baby. You've been officially advised.

**Those Summer Nights  
Chapter One**  
-o-

_August 7__th__, 1996_

It was a particularly hot day in Ottery St. Catchpole, the arid atmosphere more dry and choking rather than damp and muggy as it occasionally got in England during the summer. Hermione had only just arrived at the Burrow the evening before, having been in Italy with her parents for most of the holiday. Just then she was strolling out to the rickety barn for some much-needed solitude, away from the boisterous clatter and chatter of the house.

Hermione didn't mind the pigs or the chickens; she found the soft grunts and clucks from the farm animals somehow comforting, not to mention the barn was a fair place to be when it was hot outside for Mr. Weasley had it littered about with several old, muggle fans. Operated by magic but regardless, they offered cool relief from the scorching sun.

The portly swath-dwellers inside greeted her cheerfully as she made her way to the back of the barn to a sequestered area where Arthur kept one of his work-stations. Beside all of his doohickey widgets and whirligigs – which consisted of non-magical objects and other experimental devices – was a muggle freezer (also running on magic) with random bits of fresh produce inside as well as a surprisingly comfortable, but very hay-covered couch. There were several mismatched surfaces, including an end table made of stacked crates, a hand-carved, oaken coffee table and a large antique wardrobe that appeared to be from the late nineteenth century.

First Hermione went to the coffee table – where there was an array of magical and muggle magazines and literature for her to choose from – and once she had something good picked out settled herself on top of the freezer for an added chill. Today she chose to wear a simple, yet flowing high-waist skirt that was a deep brown shade and tucked in a peach-hued, Henley tank-top that really made her dark tan stand out. Her rich chestnut curls were topped on her head in a messy bun which she put effort in to stay in place and out of her face as best she could. On her feet she donned a pair of simple brown sandals that matched.

Inside at the house everyone was restless and bored, so it was no shock to Hermione when she heard multiple rambunctious voices outside beyond the barn. Nobody came inside where she was however and so Hermione surmised they were all happily playing Quidditch and rough-housing, as they were often prone to do after lunch.

Even the twins, Fred and George had stopped by for a well-deserved break from their brand new shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They were both at the burrow for the night but would be taking shifts all week working at the store with the help of their employee Verity. Hermione couldn't wait to see how much the brother's hard work had paid off; she hadn't yet to witness the wonder of it but had heard much word of its fresh success thus far.

She couldn't help but smile, a dreamy sigh leaving her of her own volition, 'Those two,' she thought. 'Countless moments berating George and Fred for all their risky innovations but now look at them,'

Hermione continued her leisurely reading of _The Body in the Library _by Agatha Christie, the mystery novel she'd decided on from the piles upon the table. There was a startled yelp of pain from out in the yard and Hermione jolted, almost leaving her spot on the freezer to check on things but stopped as she heard the roar of hysterical laughter that followed. Should she go see what they've gotten up to now? No… she was curious of course, but not enough to budge from her cozy little hideaway. Plus she heard Molly's squawking and was hopeful the shenanigans were under control.

Minutes later and she heard footsteps approaching, the tall figure of Fred Weasley materializing before her from around the corner. He'd been headed straight for the freezer but halted immediately when he caught sight of her sitting there. His bronze eyes sparkled as he saw her, a sly smirk dancing on his lips, "That's where you got to! Sneaking back here again for some light reading?" Hermione found herself blushing as he playfully plopped down beside her and wrapped a warm arm around her shoulders. His demeanor was casual as ever yet she couldn't fathom why this somehow felt different than all of their friendly embraces before.

He was most definitely a grown wizard now and no longer just another one of her peers at Hogwarts. Now that she herself was almost seventeen, what once would have been a simple hug seemed far more intimate than Hermione could have ever predicted it would. Did Fred know how this was making her feel? She certainly had no idea she'd ever befall this reaction to an otherwise platonic show of affection, especially from one of the twin's, not that she didn't appreciate good-looks when she saw them.

And Fred _was_ good-looking, both he and his identical brother.

They had always seemed attractive enough to Hermione, yet she rarely entertained these thoughts. She'd always been so wrapped up in Ronald she hadn't paid much attention to his siblings, not in that way. Ron and she were in the same year at Hogwarts after all, so naturally it felt right to want _him_, to want to be together romantically with her dearest friend.

Yet it certainly wasn't like Ron ever made much effort to show her that he fancied her back. Really, it was still very much up in the air. She was hopeful though but in the meantime, Hermione didn't think it'd hurt to sit there and admire his older brother's incredibly fit physique and notably sultry stare.

It wasn't as if anything would ever come of it. Fred's flirting was typically harmless and it'd be bizarre for her to think he might ever be genuinely interested. He'd always fancied girls like Angelina, the witches who were more athletically-inclined. Hermione was sure of that.

"You _completely_ just missed it," Fred went on melodramatically when she didn't right away say anything. "So Ron, you know, the same Ron who's pushed everyone's buttons all day, see he _actually_ managed to knock Ginny off her broom, right? On purpose. That like, _never_ happens, she always flies circles around him. He had her take quite the spill there, her face smashing right in the dirt so she was reasonably enraged. Then before we knew it, Ron's white briefs were charmed right out the top of his britches, hoisted him up and she had him _dangling_ in the air by his drawers," he flung his free hand in front of them for visual of how high Ron had been, chuckling in delight from the memory and Hermione laughed along with him, imagining how it all must have looked. "Absolutely brilliant, it was. Never saw anything like it. Don't recommend it though,"

Hermione's brow quirked, "He's having trouble walking now, isn't he?"

"Trouble walking is an understatement. The poor bloke couldn't even stand back up again for almost three whole minutes,"

"Oh dear," Hermione sighed exasperatedly, readying herself for a long evening of a whining, whimpering and complaining Ronald. She did pray he'd be alright, though. Something like that could be pretty detrimental to the… _nether regions_ so she hoped the damage was nothing permanent. However much of an arse he may be, Ronald did not deserve to go through something like that. She reminded herself to have a chat with Ginny about it later although Mrs. Weasley had probably given her plenty of punishment for it anyway.

"Yes well, mum's not happy with us. Sent me in here to get the frozen chickens from the freezer," he tugged teasingly at one of her loose curls that'd fallen and she giggled, "So _you_, little Granger, happen to be perched right where I need to be,"

Hermione made to move so he could get to the chicken inside but Fred's arm wouldn't leave her, his hand grasping her shoulder and firmly keeping her seated next to him. She blinked up at him, befuddled. "Um… yes?" she questioned tentatively, noticing how serious his expression had become as his eyes drilled into hers. She could have squeaked in terror from the sudden intensity of his gaze.

Fred swallowed down a pesky lump of nerves. He could tell she seemed somewhat frightened under his close scrutiny but if truth be told he just wanted to get a good look at her. As it were, he'd found he rather missed the younger witch and wanted to make it a point to spend some time with her while he was visiting the Burrow. "Sorry, s'just I can't _believe_ how much you've grown. You're not exactly our little Granger anymore, are you?" he chortled.

"No, I mean I suppose I'm not," she agreed after a moment, her mouth spreading into a bashful grin. "I'll be of-age in only a few weeks, after all."

"That's _right_," Fred said, as if he'd just remembered how old she was. "You've got nearly a year on my brother, I forgot about that,"

"Yup," Hermione replied, over-pronouncing her "p" with a pop of her lips.

Fred's stare lingered on those lips, longer than he intended before his eyes found hers again. He wasn't moving away yet, which was making her feel exceedingly more vulnerable as the seconds ticked on. His musky scent was ever rolling off him in waves at her but it wasn't repugnant, no. On the contrary, his combination of sweat and earth and everything that made up Fred Weasley was all very sensual, very inviting.

The look on his face was completely pensive, his thoughts a galaxy away but his face… he was so close, she could feel him breathing. He exhaled in tiny, shaking puffs that careened across her skin. Without her permission she felt her chest prickling with gooseflesh and despite having worn a brassiere beneath her top, the material was delicate, thin. Instantly Hermione knew that her much too sensitive nipples had just hardened to little pebbles and by the way Fred's gaze swept downward she could tell they were prominent and protruding beneath the fabric of her shirt, clearly visible.

His eyes darted back to hers; the usual amber-brown had greatly darkened, swirling with what Hermione thought might be something akin to lust.

But it wasn't something just akin to lust, it _was_ lust. Fred was attempting to wrap his mind around how the perkiest, most luscious looking set of breasts he'd ever had the pleasure of glimpsing (even with clothes covering them) had fallen under his radar this whole time.

Granger was on his radar now, oh Merlin's pants, she was. It wasn't as if Fred didn't think she was gorgeous before, he wasn't stupid, or blind but… she was practically a little sister to him, the girl whom ickle Ronnikin's had long crushed over yet was too daft to make a move on. Hell, he'd always taken the mickey out of him for it. Being _this_ attracted to Granger would be weird, wouldn't it? It'd be positively shameful.

Of course, he rather liked when things got a little weird every now and again, and shameful? Shameful, he could live with…

The small witch in his arms did not push him from her, or get angry in the least like he would have guessed she would from catching him blatantly leering. Instead an endearing pink flush saturated her freckled cheeks, saturated her neck as well as the delectable expanse of her décolletage where the attractive mounds of her bosom heaved deliciously with every staggering breath she took. She _liked_ the way he looked at her, he was almost certain but he would have to test the waters.

Hesitantly, dangerously, Fred reached his free hand up, ever so gingerly letting his long fingers graze down the side of Hermione's arm to the dip of her elbow. At his touch an involuntary shiver ran along her spine, at once trembling from the onslaught of a second wave of gooseflesh. Her pebbled buds were now straining painfully against her measly shirt and Fred bit his bottom lip excitedly from his awareness of her reaction. He began trailing his knuckles back over the way he'd went, up this time. Once to her shoulder, her breath hitched as he boldly continued across her collarbone where he deftly, tantalizingly let the tips of his digits skim tenderly the very tops of her pert bust.

His cock lurched inside his trousers, already taut and stiffening; the way her skin felt softer, more buttery than he could have ever imagined. Like angora silk, nothing he felt able to describe. He couldn't _believe_ she was letting him touch her like this. She was no longer peering at him, Hermione finding it hard to watch him as he hungrily perused her. If she looked at him she was afraid she might want him to snog her. She was afraid she already did.

Then just like that his fingers ceased their calculated caresses and Hermione, almost pouting from the loss, willed herself to lock her gaze with his again. "Well, I should _probably_ be getting that chicken," Fred drawled slowly, regret clearly in his tone. Having to go back into an almost full-house of volatile individuals was the last thing he wanted to do, but his mum was preparing dinner and he didn't need anyone getting all suspicious. Yes, this new and unexpected, but not necessarily unwelcome infatuation for Granger was already proving to be tricky business. Thankfully, tricky business was Fred's native tongue.

Hermione let out a small laugh, surprising herself a little at how openly school-girlish she felt. "Probably," she responded, maneuvering away from his arms and hopping off of the freezer. Hermione absolutely did not notice at all, how Fred observed with inner glee how her round bum jiggled scrumptiously as she teetered out of her sitting position.

Quickly he stood, getting his bearings in order while he opened up the freezer and took out the requested amount of poultry. Before turning heel he asked, "You comin'?"

Hermione shook her head, "I'll be in soon, I… I just want to finish this chapter," she half-lied. Hermione _did_ yearn for her alone time but really, she wanted to relive what just happened over again in her head, to try and make sense of it all if possible. Most likely, this had been a mistake, a dire one she ought to forget and never think on again but a different part of her, a side of her she wasn't familiar with, had whole-heartedly _wanted_ whatever had been going on just then with her and the Weasley twin.

Fred nodded, an unreadable expression adorning his features and with a loud crack he was gone, disapparated to the house.

-o-

**AN**: Did you hate it? Was it garbage? Like I said, this is my first go at a Fremione fic so I'm expecting the worst. Your feedback – I need it, I love it. It helps me stay inspired! This is definitely a multi-chapter story, though I'm not sure how many. It's Thursday but I hope you lovelies have a fantastic weekend and thank you so much for reading :0)


	2. Chapter Two

**AN**: I want to thank you all so much for all of your lovely reviews! Your words are so encouraging and I can't say enough how much it means to me. I appreciate you! Whether it's considered good or bad, writing is a feeling unlike anything else and it can really help to free one's soul.

If I recall correctly, this was my first time writing a scene where both Fred and George are actually present and key players so I did my very best but I apologize if anything seems out of character. I tried to stay true to everyone's personalities!

**Small Trigger Warning** – mention of Viktor Krum being _way_ too old for Hermione because in my opinion, he totally was. And sorry for those of you that prefer a virgin Hermione but that's not that route I wanted to go with this story. I wanted her to have just a smidge experience before we carry on.

Thanks again for reading! You're really all amazing.

**Those Summer Nights  
Chapter Two**  
-o-

_August 7__th__, 1996_

Hermione's heart, her brain… she was _reeling_. Fred had never looked at her like that before, so hungry-eyed, so appreciative of the view. In her young life there really weren't many wizards who'd ever seemed genuinely interested in her, save for Viktor Krum.

She couldn't believe what'd come over herself. Last summer, before she'd arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place, she'd let Viktor Krum visit her at her parent's home in Hampstead. Well, one thing led to another and… yes, she'd lost her so-called innocence. They were very safe about it, of course. Really, it certainly hadn't been the sort of "romp" she'd hoped for, you know, the kind that was supposed to knock her off her proverbial feet but it would have to do. She did what she did and it was too late to change anything about that.

As one could expect Hermione often felt very regretful about what she did with Viktor. She didn't like to think on it but now, after the deed was done, she felt absolutely disgusted by the whole situation. Viktor had been nineteen-years-old and Hermione, only _fifteen_ at the time, no matter that her sixteenth birthday had come a couple months after. Hermione also wasn't going to make matters worse either by tattle-telling about it, even despite the fact that the wizard actually _had_ taken advantage of her. He'd taken advantage of her blatant stupidity and her secret, desperate need to be accepted.

Hermione had offered herself up on a platter, she'd felt so lonely at the time… but she refused to dwell on these things anymore and she'd long stopped returning the Bulgaria native's letters. She was better than that, she was better than Viktor Krum. She knew that in her soul.

But Fred... what was she going to do about Fred? Perhaps he'd realized their unanticipated, wanton encounter was a mistake – because let's face it, it probably was – so most likely the twin she'd suddenly found herself infatuated with would thence do his best to avoid her.

Wouldn't he? He would, yes… she hoped at least, because she was without a doubt going to ignore him _and_ do her best to keep her rapidly ascending desire at bay. Phew, this holiday just kept proving to be ridiculous. It'd been fun, very fun but positively ridiculous all the same. What with vacationing alongside her parents, coming to the burrow and having to deal with all the uptight energy that was Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and even herself at that point because of Fleur's constant, infuriating presence, it'd come to be exhausting unfortunately. Hermione would prefer not to deal with such petty exhaustion, she'd had enough so-far to last her a lifetime. Except that didn't even matter now – a war of destiny was humming in the air. She felt to be exhausted until her last breath.

-o-

"Okay there, Freddie?" asked George Weasley as he lay across one of the beds in he and his twin's old room. "You look like you've seen a ghost," there was a slight chuckle in his tone.

Fred had come into the room and shut the door behind him, wide-eyed and suspiciously pale. He quickly pulled up the chair in front of the small desk beside George's bed and sat down, straddling with the back of the chair against his chest. "I'm in shock," he admitted quietly, still feeling very stunned by what'd happened in the barn. He hadn't had much time to think about it, he never had much time to think about things but in this case… he felt he needed to try and go about this delicately. He was aware enough to know the many volatile directions things could go if he wasn't careful.

He wasn't going to be able to forget though, forget about her. Fred Weasley didn't always get what he wanted but he would risk his chances if that meant getting to have another moment alone like that with Granger.

"That's already _very_ obvious," snickered George but there was a hint of worry in his stare as he'd folded up the Quidditch magazine he was previously skimming. "Spill," he demanded at once.

Fred was smirking despite his nerves. He spoke slowly and more quietly, leaning his head in closer in case of eavesdroppers. "Georgie,"

"Fred…?"

He swallowed hard, "Did you by chance notice how _absolutely_ fit our Little Granger became? No really, have you gotten a good look at her today?"

"What? I thought… we totally discussed this a while ago, remember? We both agreed we said she was a very lovely girl, one of the best girls,"

"Yes," replied Fred, still whispering, "We talked about how she was going to drive some bloke nutters one day, and that it'd probably be our idiot brother," they both chortled again at that.

There was a pause and then, "I can't believe you're sitting here right now, confessing to me you fancy Granger," George always caught on quickly. They could practically read each other's minds after all.

Although in good-spirits, Fred kicked the side of George's bed abruptly, causing it to scrape against the wall. "You straight git, keep your voice down," he sniggered, unable to hide the embarrassed flush he felt creeping on his cheeks.

No witch had ever succeeded in making him _this_ flustered, not even Fleur Delacour, who was beautiful, and part-Veela mind you. No, he was not easily enchanted, not in the sense where he became a drooling puppy every time he was around a female specimen he'd found attractive. He could always contain himself, put up a shield if need be. _This_ felt different, much different. He wasn't all sure it was a good thing but the thought, the idea of Granger, their shared clandestine moment, the feel of her skin against the tips of his fingers… it felt _so_ right.

George was all too aware of Fred's uncharacteristic behavior and his eyes sparkled with pure amusement, ignoring his mild act of disgruntlement. "Has she given any inclination at all that she might feel the same?"

That was a great question and a great answer came along with it.

He thought back to the way Hermione's skin had beckoned to be touched, how her body shuddered with pleasure at the feel of him. "I believe so," he exhaled a breath, wiping his clammy hands over his pants.

"Unbelievable," George replied with wonder, "I really never would have thought and yet, it somehow makes sense," he was saying, tapping on his chin with his index.

"It does?"

"Yeah, it's weird," he wrenched himself from the pillow into a sitting position and shrugged, "Why don't you ask her to come to our flat at the shop? You could, you know, have a proper sit down and get in a few good conversations and maybe even…" he trailed off grinning, a waggle of his brows.

Fred felt a surge of butterflies in his stomach, delighted at the idea. "I'm likin' where your heads at Georgie, really, I'm liking it a lot,"

"So am I,"

George had a witch of his own to spend time with; with Fred's explicit blessing, George and Angelina Johnson had begun dating not long after the grand opening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It seemed to be going along swimmingly and Fred had never been happier for his twin.

Fred already felt so happy himself, he could burst. His life was thus far, exactly what he'd dreamed it would be. He imagined he might just die from his happiness, if he not only got to have his cake but eat it too.

"He's going to _hate_ you," sang George, referring to their youngest brother.

Fred tried not to roll his eyes, "He pretty much already does,"

George stood and patted Fred on the back, "Hey, what do they say? Ya snooze, ya lose, amiright?"

-o-

It was during dinner when the hopefulness that'd briefly settled in Hermione was torn to shreds once she'd received a flirtatious wink from Fred across the table. He was breaking all of her unspoken rules but really, who was she to let herself think time and again that the playful wizard before her might actually play by the rules? A fool, that's what she was, a fool. He'd deliberately sat directly in front of her, ever so casually extending his long leg and letting a sock-covered foot ruthlessly brush against her ankle, over her toes. Instinctively she wiggled them, Fred biting his lip all the while.

He was playing _footsies_ with her.

The sexual tension in the air felt so palpable to her, Hermione was _sure_ everyone could notice too… however none of those in attendance seemed to be paying neither she, nor Fred any mind at that moment. Not even George, who was fully engrossed by Ginny relaying her account of her incredible bat-bogey hex extravaganza in Dolores Umbridge's office the night they left for the Department of Mysteries. Everyone was chuckling – Ron too, whom every now and again winced or hissed in agony from his earlier injury – but Hermione could see her wonderful Harry down the table and despite his small smile his emerald eyes were glazed over, far away. She knew then he was thinking of Sirius again, blaming himself.

It would do no good to dwell on such forlorn thoughts. She supported Harry one-hundred percent, she always had but she'd tried to tell him not to go to the Ministry that night… it'd seemed legitimate, after Kreacher just blatantly lied to them about Sirius' whereabouts but that was all here nor there now, and over her dead body would she ever tell her best friend "I told you so", not over this.

Fred's toes poked hers again and settled over the top of her foot for a moment. Yet his gaze was nowhere near looking at her; of course he wouldn't give himself away too direly. He was a clever, clever man when it came to troublemaking, she'd give him that.

Once dinner was just about through, Bill and Fleur announced they'd be leaving the following afternoon and would therefore, unfortunately miss little sister Ginny's fifteenth birthday that next week. Ginny was undeniably, perfectly elated Fleur would finally be retiring from the Burrow but had the decency at least, to feign an adorable set of puppy dog eyes to show them some regret.

When Fleur and Bill turned away, Ginny caught Hermione's gaze, darted her pink tongue out and then absurdly crossed those puppy eyes. Hermione stifled a laugh, as well as Fred and George who'd witnessed Ginny's antics.

A warm, socked foot was still over hers. Was he really going to do this, with _her_? Bookish little Hermione Granger had captured sexy athlete and resident trickster Fred Weasley's attention? What a precarious web to be weaved… shall she actually choose to play along?

She wiggled her toes beneath him again and observed the tiniest of smirks along Fred's lips as he tasted his juice.

-o-

That evening, Hermione, though try as she might, was not getting any sleep. Brimming with reluctance but completely unable to stay lying unenthused in her bed, she grabbed a chunky cardigan sweater and tiptoed out of the room. She was more than careful not to wake anyone as she made her way down the rickety, wooden stairs, quiet as a mouse as she crept out the door and walked to the barn.

She told herself she was only going back to see how the next scene in that Agatha Christie novel panned out but really she was secretly hoping by some coincidence that Fred might make another appearance.

She was not willing to admit how much she wanted such an occurrence.

With a wave of her wand, the oil-lamps strewn about Arthur's work nook illuminated the space and Hermione got comfortable on the hay-coated sofa. Unsure of how long she'd been curled up there reading, the witch began groggily rubbing at her vision and it was at that moment when low and behold she'd heard the quiet thuds of approaching footsteps.

His chiseled face brightened and relaxed once he caught sight of her. He was glad that when he'd seen the faint lights from inside the barn that it turned out to be Hermione and not his father or one of his other relatives. Fred was so happy she'd come. All night he'd silently drilled his yearning for another moment with her into the surrounding universe in hopes it'd manifest to fruition and _here they were_.

"Couldn't sleep either, love?" he cooed as he stepped nearer and Hermione smiled coyly, her face already stained red.

"Not a wink," she replied.

"Mind if I join you, then?" she shook her head and he hopped beside her, crossing his legs onto the coffee table and reclining casually. "Ah the same book from earlier I see," Fred gestured to the book in her lap but she was wholly distracted by his closeness, their arms touching and her knee lightly digging into the side of his thigh. He noticed the way she couldn't find her words, her shallow, ragged breathing and how she'd looked them both over with trepidation _and_ appraisal. His voice turned husky, "Want to read it to me?"

She blinked at him curiously, an expression of bemusement adorning her features. "You-you _really_ want me to?" she asked disbelievingly.

A dark, guttural purr resounded from his throat, showcasing a feral grin, "Mmm, maybe, maybe not. I just enjoy watching those pretty, plump lips of yours,"

Hermione forced a gasp back down, her breath hitching at his bold admission. Two pink spots had formed upon Fred's cheeks, the atmosphere around them suddenly caving in, choking them. Despite this Hermione regained some of her valiance, shrugging with a bit of nonchalance. "Ah, good show Fred but we both really know I'm just a big bother with all my incessant nagging and everything," she looked away.

"Don't say that," he barked, throwing his arm around her exactly like he'd done earlier when they were on the freezer. Her body, reacting on its own, moved in closer. "You are," he began slowly, leaning in and his nose lightly skimmed hers, forcing her to look into his eyes. He restarted, "Yes, you're _unreasonably_ brilliant and you may nag us a lot but your hearts always in the right place, innit?" Hermione smiled bashfully at that, nodding. "And you're more than just your brains, you know…" he trailed off, his nose still near. She could feel his breath mingling with hers, their mouths inches apart.

"Oh?" he was staring at her lips, his gaze dropping and dragging over her petite form. He let his fingers come up and play with a rogue thread on her knitted sleeve.

Fred was chuckling, "Come off it, you know you're _beautiful_," it wasn't a question. "Mighty fetching in my mind,"

Hermione was totally taken a back and feeling unfathomably flattered and befuddled – a mixture of emotions whipping within. "In your mind?" she parroted dazedly, not able to think of a proper response.

"Oh yes," he said and she watched him wet his lips, forehead making contact with her temple as he whispered hotly against the shell of her ear, "My mind is _thrilled_ to see you," her sweater had fallen down her arm, exposing her shoulder and Fred's fingers were drumming in a sensuous manner upon her flesh like he were deciding something.

Suddenly, there was a burning wetness at the crook of her neck and this time she gasped. His mouth was on her, sucking a sweet trail of searing kisses to her pulse-point. Her head instinctually lolled backward, at once giving him more of her skin to roam. Hermione was wriggling in his arms, little tiny whimpers escaping her for so intense was the feeling of his tongue, his teeth biting. Already she knew, were her knickers a drenched mess. No boy, no wizard had ever made her feel these things. _Not_ like this. She would have _never_ expected this sort of attention from the Weasley twin, but she wasn't complaining.

The delicious little mewls and begging sounds she was making were turning Fred inside out. He hadn't thought he was doing very much to her at all but with the way her body was clearly reacting to him… so sensitive she was. His other hand made its way to rest on her tight belly, gripping the fabric of her thin night-shirt between his fingers. She inhaled sharply and her bust heaved. He saw her straining, pebbled nipples sticking beneath her top like that afternoon but this time she was lacking a bra. He dipped his face in close to her breasts and breathed deeply her scent, causing the fuzz along her to stand on end. "Fred…" she found herself muttering but she didn't know what to say.

And thank Merlin she wouldn't have to because the wizard holding her closed the agonizing distance between them, his mouth softly but eagerly pressing to hers. Hermione didn't hesitate; she let herself feel every bit of it, savored his taste. She welcomed him in, completely returning his fervor, meeting him at every turn. She was grasping the front of his flannel now as they both fought for air, ardently moving together in tandem.

It was just the two of them in the whole world, an existence only they shared.

After several pleasurable minutes Fred couldn't hold himself back any longer – his curiosity always got the better of him in the end. He didn't want to go there quite yet and was absolutely nervous to see what she might do if he did but… without another thought his fingers went greedily, diligently tugging at her hardened nipple through her shirt and Hermione cried out from the sensations. Fred saw her hips buck forward, the pyjama pants she donned riding upward to reveal a liberal view of the womanly mound hiding underneath. He wanted to crudely hoist her garments up further so he could see the crests of her slit through them, so he could see how wet he'd made her and if it'd soaked her knickers. He wanted to find out if she was even wearing any knickers…

Damnit, she made his cock _so_ bloody hard, it was painful.

Fred kept up his sinister, tantalizing movements, not ceasing his ministrations; he was pulling and twisting on her, rolling her tiny nub irresistibly. He started on the other breast, kneading her, squeezing her and he muffled another loud moan with his kiss. Their eyes met, lip-locked; Fred suckled on the bottom one, taking her jaw in his hand as he ended the contact and pressed his head to hers. "Come see me at the shop. I'll show you around, make you something to eat. The flat ain't all bad,"

Her face had lit up at his offer. "When?" she asked.

"Whenever you want," Fred breathed.

"Well, alright," Hermione tried to repress the ginormous grin spreading across her face but it was no use.

He was smiling right back, "Can't wait to spend some… _proper_ time with you, away from here,"

"Me too, Fred," she responded and they both yawned simultaneously, following each other with a laugh.

"Go to bed, Granger," he snickered and Hermione did as she was told, pressing a short peck on his freckled nose – which made his tummy flip-flop – and exited the barn, leaving him there peacefully with his semi-tumultuous, semi-tranquil thoughts.

-o-

**AN**: I don't think I have anything to say except for that chapter was especially fun to write! I really hope it turned out okay, what do you guys think? Let me know in a review and if you like this story please follow. I update sporadically but I try not to take an ungodly amount of time on getting back to my fics. I hope you all are safe, warm and with people who love you out there but also stay away from those people who love you if they're at risk and vice-versa. You all know the gist! Lol I hope you all have a lovely week, stay chipper :0)


	3. Chapter Three

**AN**: Thank you SO MUCH for the follows and lovely reviews! You guys are seriously the best and I hope my fic continues to appease! Please enjoy this next little chapter I cooked up.

**Those Summer Nights  
Chapter Three**  
-o-

_August 8__th__, 1996_

Hermione woke up about twenty-five minutes later than she meant to.

She shot out of bed immediately, rushing into the shower and wondering not only why no one woke her but also how she'd actually stayed asleep with the typical noisiness that made up the Burrow and the folk within it. After she'd soaked and soaped herself up nicely she brushed her teeth, dried off, put on a clean, sensible outfit and tamed her unusually manageable curls into a long plait down her back. She started making her bed, contemplating on where Crookshanks might have got to when Ginny came into the room.

"Oh good, glad you're up,"

"Gin, I'm sorry! Why didn't anyone come fetch me, why'd you let me sleep in?" whined Hermione, regretful she hadn't helped with anything around the house yet.

"You were fast asleep, you looked out of your head knackered," the younger witch replied, unbothered. "Didn't want to wake you but I was just coming to do that now. Can't stand him Hermione, he's been driving me batty all holiday," she grumbled, taking a gulp of the water she was holding. "I knew it – I _just_ knew it when I did what I did yesterday that he would use it as an excuse to skive off chores!" She was referring to Ronald and the _unpleasant_ injury he'd acquired over knocking Ginny off her broom and summoning her unforgiving wrath.

Hermione hadn't meant to but she giggled a bit from her friend's dramatic flair and at that Ginny stuck her tongue out at her. "Look on the bright side," she paused with her bed-making, "At least a certain someone is leaving today," the words left her quietly, in case the person she was talking about was anywhere near and could hear. Ginny's whole fact lit up, as if she'd somehow only just remembered that Fleur Delacour was finally making her departure from the residence.

"Now that _is_ the bright side," Ginny said, looking as if she'd burst with pure joy but then, "Hurry, come save me from all the laundry, it needs to be dried,"

"We'll make quick work of it as soon as I'm done with the beds," Hermione smirked, nodding over to the girl's heaps of tangled sheet and blanket.

"I could just make it in five seconds with my wand, why do you insist on doing it the hard way," groaned Ginny, feeling bad now for the mess she'd left which wasn't Hermione's responsibility.

"You know I like to do it, so just let me do it," Hermione clipped primly, the fire of a mother-goose in her spirit. They'd been over this before; it was relaxing for her to go through the motions, she enjoyed having something to focus on so early in the morning. It helped rouse her to functional awareness.

Ginny, in her short life, felt she'd already had enough arguing to last her a lifetime, so she absolutely wasn't going to partake in any more that morning and definitely not with one of the only people she didn't mind living in the house. "Okay, yeah. Wouldn't dream of taking away your… _fun activity_, anyway, I'll see you outside," she smiled and waved, Hermione smiling back as she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Hermione got back to business, efficiently laying down the rest of her blanket and smoothing out the creases. She was reaching for her pillow to give it a bit of fluffing, adding a finishing touch when she heard the door open and close again.

"You-" Turning back around to see what Ginny forgot she was met instead with the image of Fred quickly sauntering towards her seductively, like he were the big bad wolf going in for his kill. "Wha…?" the word was small, dying on her lips as his feverish kiss overtook them; one of his hands came to grip her side, long fingers ruffling the fabric of her fluttery blouse.

His tongue swept into her mouth, capturing hers and pulling her closer. Her entire being was pulsing, her magic ignited. More fingers danced along her skin, delicately splayed out across her collarbone. His teeth scraped against her bottom lip and drug it inwards to suck on. The tiniest of whimpers escaped her, well aware of where she still was, who she was with but almost, just the smallest amount, not caring. He smelled _so_ _good_ and Hermione pressed herself further into his tall frame, one of her hands snaking up his lean but well-built chest to rest on his shoulder.

Her mouth tried to follow his as Fred broke away from the kiss smirking at her and chuckling lightly. He held her there, brushing his knuckles over her cheek as she got lost in his sunshine gaze. "I'll be back on Tuesday," he whispered and that'd felt tolerable to Hermione since it was Sunday. "So you won't have to miss me for long," Fred was so confident, his hand cradling her face as he began inspecting her neck and décolletage; his nimble digits ghosting her flesh ever so slightly had her already weakened knees turn to jelly in his arms. "No marks, I see. I have something back at the shop for that,"

"Do you really?" Hermione questioned, amazed.

"Oh yeah," he replied, nodding enthusiastically. They were both to some degree, still speaking in hushed tones as not to gain the attentions of the other household members but also loud enough where from a distance, it'd seemed like two people were having a normal conversation. "Gets rid of it in no time – fifteen seconds flat and you're as pure as the day you were born,"

"That's brilliant, really," she told him breathlessly and one of his auburn brows arched curiously.

"What, no telling me off, claiming I'm once again, being a bad influence and encouraging young students to-" she cut him off, her wetted mouth colliding against and bonding to his lips with the ferociousness of a true lioness. Fred, surprised and almost knocked off kilter, righted himself and kissed her back with as much fire, as much earnestness as she.

Just as she'd clutched and was toying with the long, red pieces of hair at the back of Fred's neck they heard noisy bumping coming from Bill and Fleur's room on the floor above and Hermione jumped away from him, a look of sheer terror on her face. He laughed out heartily. "That'll be the luggage. Why don't I see if they need any help?"

Hermione, a deep flush upon her countenance, nodded shyly. "Right, I gotta, you know, finish making this bed," instantly she was taking control of Ginny's blankets.

Before departing, Fred leaned into her ear, breathing hotly, "I'd rather toss you onto your bed and ruin it all over again," Hermione's entire body vibrated and he retreated from her, smirking handsomely and bid her adieu with one of his signature, sultry winks. She swooned completely; her inner thighs trembled, her nether regions tingling, practically pulsating with a dire need she'd never before known. It'd literally taken everything in her to concentrate on the simple task at hand.

Once outside, Hermione got to work assisting Ginny with drying the laundry. They laid pieces out one by one. With their wands they performed easily the proper charms to absorb every drop of water from the garments and folded them up neatly into wicker baskets which Mrs. Weasley had set out for them.

Thankfully, Ginny had set the muggle radio they owned on the nearby window-sill and currently, were being forced by the disc-jockey to listen to an old band that'd Hermione recognized immediately as the Bee Gee's. Her parent's loved such music and after Ginny's confused and bewildered comments, Hermione had explained to her in the best way she could, what disco had been.

The funky, fast-paced song went on as they kept up with the motions of their chore.

"So," Ginny began casually. "Any more letters from Viktor?" the youngest Weasley was only being conversational and did not know the finer details of what'd went on between her and the Quidditch star. Hermione had not confided in a single person about what'd she'd put herself through, about how she'd offered up her innocence and regretted it every second since. Why would she? They were all still, particularly young and the last thing she wanted, the last thing she needed was the overly-harsh judgements raining down on her from her friends.

Ginny however, probably _wouldn't_ judge her like that Hermione surmised but still, would she actually dare confer with her about it? She felt she couldn't for some reason. Perhaps it was because she'd out of the blue, so suddenly and so dangerously, entangled herself with the girl's older brother.

Hermione cleared her throat, "A while ago, got one right in the beginning of summer,"

Ginny grimaced, for she _did_ happen to know at least that Hermione hadn't fancied Viktor for a long time now. "Sheesh, what did he want? Grammar still horrendous and illegible?" Hermione snickered at that.

"Unfortunately yes," she replied. "Apparently wanted me to meet him in Germany and hop on a train with him to Bulgaria, can you believe it? Like, yeah right," her voice was sarcastic and laden with disdain which made Ginny outright giggle.

"The dozy plonker, what doesn't he get? You told him very plainly to bugger off months ago, I can't believe he's this persistent," Ginny ranted. "Sorry to hear that 'Mione,"

Hermione shrugged, "Eh, it could be worse, I suppose. It's not like he's stalking me or anything like that,"

"_Ugh_," groaned Ginny, disgustedly. "I wouldn't put it past the creep, I mean really. I never liked the git – overly chummy, no boundaries. I don't care _how_ good at Quidditch you are, the ruddy, bloody dingle-head," she was waving her arms around, wand in hand and unfazed over it.

Hermione gaped at her friend, abashed, "Ginevra, your language is astounding,"

Ginny leaned backwards and pressed her hand over her heart in feigned flattery, "Thank you!" she said grinning which just made Hermione smile and shake her head. The redheaded witch really was articulate.

That's when Harry Potter stumbled out into the backyard, staring at them quizzically, his brows furrowed in confusion at the strange dance music blasting from the radio. "What in the damn dickens is this song, if you can call it that," he queried agitatedly, palming his ears like he were in pain.

"Hermione says it's disco," answered Ginny promptly.

"Not a fan of this _disco_ at all," he waltzed up to the radio, "Let's put on something else, shall we?" Hermione and Ginny weren't complaining as the black-haired wizard began fiddling with the dials on the device. After a moment he'd seemed to find a station producing a classic, alternative rock song with a good tune.

"Don't know this one," said Hermione.

"Me either," Harry responded, "But I like how it sounds,"

It _was_ catchy, whatever it was.

"Where's my brother gotten off to?" Ginny demanded in bitterness and Harry, for a second was taken off guard.

"Which one?" he asked.

Fred's warm, playful eyes flashed inside Hermione's mind.

"Ron, of course," the young witch replied. "He's skived off chores and I want to know where that prat's gone relaxing when he should be here helping us,"

Harry's mouth formed a tiny 'O' in understanding, "Actually Gin, your mum's got him in the kitchen dusting off her china and she says she'll have him polish the silver-ware once he's done, so… I wouldn't get too envious if I were you,"

That'd satisfied Ginny immensely and the three of them quite enjoyed talking and listening to the hard-rock on the radio for the remainder of their time spent outside. It wasn't until about an hour later when they were all corralled to the front of the house to say farewell to Bill and Fleur. Fred and George were no longer present though, seeing as they'd had to go back to Diagon Alley and take care of their booming business.

The only ones who'd remain living at the Burrow for the rest of the holiday would be Molly and Arthur, Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione. Charlie, as predictable, was out traversing the wildernesses across Europe and Percy was… still Percy, and not staying with his family any longer. That was likely a good thing anyway, for everyone. Hermione wished the wizard's closed-minded brain hadn't been stuck so far up his own arse; she really used to respect Percy.

As they all watched the merry couple disapparate from the grounds, Hermione couldn't stop her thoughts from teetering right back to how lucky she felt – lucky to have somehow, unwittingly gained the devilishly handsome Fred's affections. His tantalizing promises of the pleasures to come were almost too much for her to have to bear before she'd see him again, even if it _was_ for only two days.

-o-

**AN**: Just a little snippet to hold you folks over! I hope you guys continue to like it, let me know in a review! Don't worry, Hermione will visit the shop eventually. Thank you for taking time out of your forced isolation to read my little erotic story! Next update coming as soon as possible. I wish you all a great weekend! Stay safe and healthy everybody! Cheers :0)


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